


By flash and thunder fire

by sableflynn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Betrayal, Blindfolds, Caretaking, Comfort, Face Punching, Face Slapping, Gen, Gun Violence, Head Injury, Hostage Situations, Isolation, Kidnapping, Kneeling, Knives, Manhandling, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Original Character Death(s), Panic Attacks, Sleep Deprivation, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sableflynn/pseuds/sableflynn
Summary: Katia Sterling wakes up kidnapped and shackled in a strange basement. She has a bad time! (story for Whumptober 2020)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For prompts: Day 1 (waking up restrained) and Day 22 (drugged)

Katia awoke slowly, her mind still clinging to the fog of unconsciousness. Sensations came to her in pieces, disjointed—the hard surface of a chair pressing into her back; the persistent hum of fluorescent lights; rope wound tight binding her legs to the chair; the cold bite of metal around her wrists; the mass of fabric filling her mouth, kept in place with a cloth wrapped tight around her skull. The pounding in her head and roiling in her stomach. She took in these feelings almost clinically at first, cataloguing them while her mind gradually came to the conclusion that something was seriously wrong. Even as she awoke, she kept her eyes squeezed shut, trying to untangle the jumble of her memories.  
  
_Domenic spun her around the kitchen, pulling her close for a deep kiss. “With this business deal, we’re going to be living on top of the world,” he said, joy lighting up his face._  
  
 _She didn’t understand his job, really—finances were never her strong suit. But his enthusiasm was infectious, and she was grinning. “Seems like we should celebrate, yes?” She threw her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to be able to reach._  
  
 _“We’re going out to dinner tonight.” Of course he’d already made plans. Between his three different work phones and seemingly endless supply of planners, he must have planned out every minute of his life for the next ten years. “Il Piacere. That high-end rooftop lounge downtown.” His smile was dazzling. “Homemade fettuccine, fine wine, dinner with a view.”_  
  
This was _not_ how she had expected her evening to go.   
  
Katia opened her eyes.  
  
The light was bright, sharpening the pain in her head, and she had to squint for a moment as her eyes adjusted. Eventually, she was able to take in her surroundings.  
  
Bare cement walls and floor. Metal anchor points fastened to the ground and walls and ceiling. A metal cabinet against one wall. A _drain_ in the floor.   
  
It was so cliche, she almost had to laugh, if only to shield herself from the growing horror. Her mind was still hazy and everything around her felt indistinct and she would almost swear she was dreaming if it weren’t for the ache in her head.  
  
_It was a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, and Domenic had gone out to settle up some loose ends at work, finalize his deal. Katia took the opportunity to go for a jog. Deep in the arboretum, along her favorite well-worn but solitary path, she lost herself in the rhythm of her own breathing and pounding feet._  
  
 _She didn’t even hear the stranger approaching until he was practically on top of her._  
  
 _She felt a grip on her shoulder and whirled around in a panic, hands thrown out in an untrained defensive gesture, but the stranger used the momentum of her clumsy motion to grapple her arms behind her._  
  
 _She tried to get a look at his face, but he wore a ski mask. She tried to scream, but he smothered the sound with a gloved hand before she could let it out._  
  
 _Then she felt a sharp prick at her neck, and icy dread flowed through her veins. She made one last half-hearted attempt to break free, and then she fell limp._  
  
She’d been drugged, and kidnapped, and now she was gagged and strapped down to a chair in a sketchy basement god-knew-where with no way of contacting anyone. Her mind was finally starting to clear out the haze as she fought off the remnants of the drug, and it was slowly dawning on her just what serious shit she was in.  
  
_I don’t want to die._ Stories of serial killers and depraved criminals swirled in her mind, books and wiki articles she’d consumed endlessly during her ill-advised true crime phase in college. She knew exactly what happened to people like her in this situation, and she had no clue how to stop it.  
  
Desperate, she tried to jerk her chair to the side, to move around the room a bit. Her legs strained against the ties and the cold metal of the handcuffs bit into her wrists, but she couldn’t move. She didn’t even know where she would go if she could. Panic growing, she tried to yell through the gag, but the sound was completely muffled. She wasn’t sure she wanted to attract the attention of whoever would hear her, anyway.   
  
Wrists and ankles flexing uselessly against her bonds, Katia tried to relax herself, slow her breathing, calm her pounding heart. But she couldn’t stop her mind from racing, thoughts repeating in an endless cycle of _I’m alone_ and _I’m helpless_ and _I can’t do anything but wait until they come for me_.  
  
She didn’t have to wait for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2 (kidnapped)

The door opened with a clang and a man stepped into the room. He watched her for a moment, his expression inscrutable, then crossed the room with long strides. He had an easy confidence about him, a swagger, as if he expected his mere presence to be enough to inspire recognition and fear. Katia had no clue who he was.  
  
The man paused before her and she glared up at him, mouth working around the gag. He was tall, all lean muscle, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. The look in his eyes unnerved her; he was more than just smug. He was savoring a victory.  
  
“So this is the lovely wife of the illustrious Domenic Sterling.” He placed a single finger under her chin and tilted her head up to study her face more closely. “I never took him for the type to settle down with someone so...plain, but I suppose I can see the appeal.”  
  
She brushed aside the petty insult, more concerned with the implications behind it. How did this man know Nic? Was he a business rival? Or just some opportunistic criminal who saw a successful man and wanted to take advantage?   
  
“Ah, but let me take care of that for you,” the man added, and then he reached around her head to untie the tight knot of the gag. The remnants of her headache dissipated as soon as the pressure was removed. She spat the wad of fabric from her mouth, coughing and gasping as her eyes teared up, from anger as much as from fear.  
  
The man waited in silence as she gathered herself, and his patronizing patience frustrated her even more. She finally caught a deeper breath and glared up at him through the blur of tears. “What is it you want?” she croaked, hoping he would cut the dramatics and just get to the point. “Money? We’ll give you money. Don’t touch me.”  
  
He laughed at that. “So generous of you! But just a bit off the mark.” One hand came up to cup her cheek, a thumb brushing away the stray tear that had fallen. She shuddered at the touch, but held his gaze.   
  
“You don’t have to worry your sweet head about any of that,” the man continued, pulling a phone from his pocket. “I’m just going to give your dear husband a call.”  
  
The ringtone was loud in the silence of the room, and Katia prayed that Nic wouldn’t ignore a call from a strange number.  
  
“Domenic Sterling.” Warm relief bloomed in Katia’s chest at the sound of his voice.  
  
“Evening, Sterling.” The man smiled as if enjoying a private joke. “Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”  
  
Domenic’s voice immediately turned stone cold. “Savio. What is this about?”  
  
“I found something of yours you seem to have misplaced,” the man—Savio, apparently—said with a wink at Katia. He held the phone closer to her. “Why don’t you say hello, sweet thing?”  
  
Her heart was hammering. For a moment, she wondered if she should stay silent, refuse to play the game Savio was going for. But the brief satisfaction wouldn’t be worth whatever consequences this man had in mind.   
  
“Nic…?” Her voice was tremulous and she leaned as close to the phone as the ropes binding her would allow.  
  
“ _Katia?_ ” The coldness from seconds before was gone from Nic’s voice, replaced with the warmth of the man she knew and loved. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”  
  
_Drugged, kidnapped, and tied to a chair._ But saying that wouldn’t change anything. “No, I’m—”  
  
“Not yet,” Savio cut in, smooth as glass. “We’ll see how long she stays that way.”  
  
“What are you playing at, Savio?” The ice was back in Nic’s voice, and Katia shivered despite herself.  
  
Savio spoke as if reciting a grocery list. “I want you to cease all operations in the greater New Barrington area and forfeit your property in those sectors to my company. Oh, and…” He flashed a smile at Katia. “Your wife offered me money. I think an even million is fair, for something as valuable as her.”  
  
Katia half hoped he would take the offer, get her out of there, and they could deal with whatever fallout after. But instead he said, “You’re insane. Don’t you dare touch her—”  
  
“I’m being reasonable.” A dangerous glint in Savio’s eye was the only warning Katia got before he backhanded her across the face. She cried out in shocked pain as her head snapped to the side, eyes watering once again. Savio’s voice dropped all traces of banter, matching Nic’s in its chill. “Don’t tell me what to do again.”  
  
“I swear, Savio, you’ll pay triple for every single scratch you leave on her.” Her husband spoke in a voice she’d never heard from him before, calm and cruel, and she swallowed back fear even as she knew he was defending her.  
  
Savio was unphased. “Is that so?” He slapped her again, palm slamming her head the other direction. “I might as well go all in, then.” A third slap, almost casual. She couldn’t hold back a small sob.  
  
“Katia, love, you just need to be brave for a little bit.” Nic spoke quickly, urgently, and she longed to wrap her arms around him and bury herself in his embrace. Her cheeks throbbed from where she’d been slapped. She focused on Nic’s voice like a beacon. “I swear I’m going to get you out of there, I _swear_ , you just need to hold on for a bit.”  
  
“You have twelve hours. You know what I want.” Savio’s grin at her was downright wolfish, and her stomach dropped in dread. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to provide you with plenty of motivation.”  
  
“Katia, I love you so much, I’m so sorry, Savio I swear to god—”  
  
Savio hung up the phone without another word. The silence hung in the air as the two stared at each other a moment, Katia refusing to look away. Then his eyes travelled up and down her body, still bound to the chair, before he stepped behind her.   
  
She felt strong hands on her shoulders, and his voice was a murmur behind her. “Now, where do I start with _you_ …”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: Day 3 (manhandled, forced to their knees, held at gunpoint)

The metal door banged open, and Katia jerked against the ropes holding her. Another man walked in, briefly framed by the light of the stairway before the door shut behind him.   
  
“Ah, Peters, perfect timing.” Savio gave her shoulders a quick squeeze before stepping back into her line of vision. “Our old friend Sterling isn’t taking this situation as seriously as he should.” He turned to face her, cupped her cheek where he’d slapped her moments before. “You’d think he would do anything to get his lovely wife to safety.”  
  
Katia flinched away from his touch. A small, cowardly part of her agreed with him; she _did_ wish Nic would just do what they wanted and get her out of there. “He doesn’t negotiate with lowlife criminals,” she bit out instead.  
  
Savio burst out laughing at that. “Oh, you have _no_ idea.” He summoned Peters closer with a casual wave of his hand, eyes still fixed on Katia. “I suppose we’ll just have to send him a clearer message.” He stepped back, considering, then: “Get her on her knees.”  
  
Katia’s eyes went wide with horror, and then Peters was crouching before her, slicing away the ropes holding her legs with a pocket knife. The minute her legs were free, she acted on instinct, lashing out at his face. Her foot connected with a satisfying _crunch_ and he fell back with a curse.  
  
“Fuckin’—” Scrambling to his feet, Peters held a fist up to staunch the blood pouring down his face. “She broke my fucking nose!”   
  
Her momentary thrill of triumph was extinguished by the smirk on Savio’s face, and the realization that petty acts of defiance wouldn’t do anything to get her out of here.   
  
“What did you expect?” Savio asked, making no move to help the other man. “Don’t put your face near her feet.”   
  
Peters moved to approach her again, wiping away blood with the back of his hand, and she grit her teeth. “Don’t touch me,” she growled.  
  
She knew it wouldn’t make any difference. They would do whatever they wanted, no matter how much she kicked and spat at them. But it still mattered to her, to get the words out.  
  
He swung his fist at her without a word, and pain exploded across her face. She gasped for a breath, dazed, and was vaguely aware of him untying the ropes holding her cuffed arms to the chair. Then he hoisted her up and forced her to the ground, her knees slamming painfully into the hard cement.  
  
Savio loomed over her, and she renewed her struggles, twisting away from the strong hands holding her down. “Let go of me, you piece of shit—”  
  
A metallic _click_ , and Katia’s eyes slowly traveled up to the gun in Savio’s hand, and she went still.  
  
“That’s more like it,” Savio murmured, pressing the sleek barrel of the gun to her forehead. Every inch of her skin was hypersensitive, and the gun felt like a shard of ice against her skull.   
  
_He’s going to kill me._ He couldn’t, that wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he’d told Nic _twelve hours._ But none of that mattered when she could feel the cold metal against her skin.  
  
“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”  
  
Peering up at Savio from where she knelt, she saw his lips quirk up in a slight smile. “Say that again,” he breathed, trailing the gun lightly down one cheek.  
  
She swallowed. _Pride means nothing right now._ “Please,” she said again, “don’t.”   
  
Savio shifted the gun until the tip of the barrel just barely rested against her lips. “Open up,” he said.  
  
She didn’t dare disobey.  
  
He forced the gun in her mouth and her teeth scraped the metal as she instinctively tried to close her jaw, to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Her senses were overcome with the sharp tang of gunpowder and steel, the handcuffs digging into her wrists, the press of the unyielding ground against her knees.   
  
“Is this how your husband sees you?” Savio asked, almost conversational. He thrust the gun deeper into her mouth, and she gagged. “I think I’m starting to see the appeal.” She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, couldn’t stand to see whatever enjoyment he was getting out of her choked gagging and the tears running down her cheeks.  
  
With his free hand, Savio pulled out a phone and passed it over to Peters. The other man crouched next to her, and she heard the faint shutter sound of the phone camera. She made a muffled sound of protest and tried to jerk away from the camera, but Savio held her still with a hand on her head.  
  
“Make sure you get nice and close,” he said, and Peters obliged. “That fear is _beautiful_.” Katia squeezed her eyes shut, sending another stream of tears down her cheeks. The shutter sounded again. Her jaw ached.  
  
Then Savio pulled the gun from her mouth and she could breathe again. She gasped and spat, trying to rid herself of the taste and feel and _terror_ of the gun in her mouth. Above her, Savio handed the gun back over to Peters.  
  
“Go get that cleaned up,” he commanded, resting his other hand lightly on Katia’s head. “And send those pictures to Sterling. Remind him what’s at stake.”  
  
Peters left the room without a word, and she was alone with Savio once again. _I need to run for it now. He doesn’t have the gun, I’m not tied to anything…_ Her eyes flicked between the unguarded door and the man standing above her, watching her silently. Expectantly.  
  
_He_ wants _me to make a run for it._ He was waiting for her to move, she was sure, so he could intercept her and laugh at her for even trying. She’d just have to wait him out, play meek until he let his guard down.  
  
And, if she was honest with herself, she needed some time to work up the nerve.  
  
Savio’s smile widened as she sat still, and he stepped back. Her scalp burned where his hand had been. “While your husband takes his time deciding what to do,” he said, making his way over to the cabinet along the wall, “I’ll continue working on you.” He began digging around the cabinet, and she trembled. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 (Isolation)

As Savio searched the cabinet, Katia’s gaze turned once again to the door. Was it locked? Did she dare try? Could she outrun him?  
  
Then he shut the cabinet with a _clang_ and turned to face her, and the chance was gone. She swallowed and shifted where she knelt on the ground, flexing her wrists still bound behind her back.  
  
“Look at how sweet you were, waiting for me on your knees,” Savio crooned. As he stepped closer, she saw the length of rope wrapped around one hand, and the dull glint of a knife in the other.  
  
“No—” The word left her lips before she could fully process, and she scrambled back in a desperate attempt to rise to her feet. “Don’t touch me—”  
  
“Let’s get you in a better position.” Just as she managed to get her feet beneath her, Savio shoved her back down with barely a second glance. Then he was behind her, winding the rope around the taut chain of her handcuffs and pulling. She was jerked back, and as she tried to lift herself back to her feet, she was stopped short. Twisting around, she just managed to see the anchor point in the floor behind her, and the short line of rope tethering her to it.   
  
Savio paced around her as she struggled to find a comfortable position, sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her and her arms straining behind her. He nudged her thigh with the tip of his polished shoe. “Back on your knees, sweet thing.”  
  
His tone, his touch, her vulnerable position—something in her snapped, and she heard herself say, “ _Fuck_ that.”   
  
Then she held her breath, waiting for a slap, or a punch, or the cold metal of the gun against her skin again. Instead, he placed one foot on her knee, almost gently.  
  
“Would you rather I broke them?” he murmured, pressing on her knee with the slightest bit of pressure. “I could use a bat, or maybe an old rusty pipe. Or I could just shoot them clean through.” The pressure of his foot increased.  
  
“No!” Hating him, hating herself, Katia wrenched her legs away from him and forced herself back onto her knees. Her arms behind her back strained at the rope.  
  
“That’s better.” Savio’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction, and she bit back each bitter retort that came to mind. Every petty act of defiance against him ended with her losing.  
  
He was wrapping the rope around her ankles now, her thin socks a barrier against the chafing fiber. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at what he was doing. _He’s going to do whatever he wants._ She shut her eyes, exhaled slowly. _Twelve hours. Nic won’t leave me here that long._  
  
The sharp _bang_ of the door slamming open jerked her out of her thoughts, and her eyes flew open to see Peters burst into the room. He was at Savio’s side in an instant, whispering something, but she couldn’t make out the words.   
  
Savio’s words were clearer, his tone cold. “Are you serious? _Now?_ ” And then, to Katia’s shock, he was walking towards the door, leaving the room with Peters. “Don’t move, sweet thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” The door slammed shut, and she was alone.  
  
_Alone._  
  
Her muscles already burned from the position she was tied in. Her knees ached against the unyielding cold ground, and the rope binding her ankles stopped her from stretching her legs out any other way. She took in a long, slow, shaky breath, and released it. Her heart was hammering.  
  
_I’m going to die down here._  
  
 _Nic won’t let that happen._  
  
Nic. He had been so sweet this morning, so warm. He’d wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, kissed her hair. She reached for the feeling, for that sliver of comfort, but the memory of his arms around her turned cruel and gripping, and the kiss on her hair became a hand snarled and wrenching her head back, and it wasn’t Nic, it was Savio—  
  
_That man is going to come back down here and hurt me more._  
  
Even if Nic did everything Savio asked, it wouldn’t be enough. He was enjoying hurting her. There was nothing stopping him from taking the money and whatever else he wanted and then pulling his knife out and getting right back to slicing her skin while she begged and sobbed or fought back—  
  
_I need to get out of here._  
  
She couldn’t bear it another moment, couldn’t sit and wait while Savio hurt her and Nic did whatever the fuck he was doing. She twisted around in her bonds, trying to get a better look at how she was tied—and a dull glint caught her eye. Savio’s knife, abandoned on the ground.  
  
His _knife._  
  
She automatically tried to reach for it, and gasped in pain as her arm was jerked back by the ropes. They were so tight, she could barely move an inch. It felt like they were getting tighter every second.  
  
And the knife was _right there._  
  
_I need to get that knife. I’m going to die down here if I don’t get that knife._ It wasn’t rope and cuffs holding her anymore, it was hands, Savio’s hands, gripping her and pulling her back while she writhed and strained against them. He was laughing at her for ever thinking she could get away.  
  
The knife glinted dully like a beacon in fog.   
  
_What if no one comes back down?_ The thought formed in her mind and she latched onto it with an obsessive panic. She had no clue what was going on upstairs. Hell, she had no clue what _was_ upstairs. A warehouse? An office building? A luxurious mansion? Maybe they’d been attacked by a rival criminal gang. Maybe everyone was dead. Maybe no one else even knew there was a basement here and no one would come untie her and she would rot down here until she died of thirst—  
  
The door slammed open and, as Savio stepped back into the room, her panic and her hope were both replaced with a dull dread.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 (failed escape)

Savio smiled when he saw Katia kneeling where he had left her, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out over her skin. “Don’t you look gorgeous like that,” he murmured, pulling out his phone.  
  
Katia flinched as the shutter sounded once again. He wasn’t alone, she realized belatedly as she squinted up at him. A woman walked in behind him, a bag slung over one shoulder.  
  
The woman stopped short at the sight of Katia, brow furrowing a moment before her expression smoothed into something more neutral. “How long has she been down here like this?” she asked, tone clipped and professional.   
  
“Hmm?” Savio was looking at his phone, barely gave the woman a second glance. “Oh, I don’t know. She got here a few hours ago, maybe?”  
  
_Has it been hours already?_ It felt like she’d been here thirty minutes. It felt like she’d been here days.  
  
The woman’s expression didn’t change, but Katia could see the tension in her stance. “You—you can’t just leave her like that for so long. You want her to get permanent nerve damage? That’s how. You have to move her—”  
  
She cut off abruptly as Savio grabbed her arm, cold steel in his eyes. “I don’t like your tone.” Even from across the room, Katia shivered at the ice in his voice. “You do what I tell you to. Not the other way around.”   
  
For a moment, the woman held his gaze, and Katia thought she might stand her ground. Then she broke eye contact, softened her body language. “My professional opinion is that you should move her out of that position.”  
  
“I’ll take that into consideration.” Savio made his way over to Katia with long, easy strides.   
  
Katia looked up at him, tremulous, trying to make herself seem small and harmless. She saw the smallest glimmer of hope with the other woman’s words. _If he uncuffs me, I’ll run. I don’t care what happens. I can’t just sit here and let him move me around like a doll._  
  
Savio chuckled as he stepped closer and saw the knife lying near Katia. “Whoops, this is a dangerous thing to leave lying around,” he said, and Katia bit down her frustration as he picked it up. _It’s fine. I don’t need it. I’m just going to run._  
  
Her heart was hammering as he moved behind her and began slicing away the ropes. _I’m going to run. I’m getting out of here._ It was no plan at all; she had no clue how to get out or where she would go. She just knew she needed to _go_.  
  
The ropes binding her ankles were cut away first, and she gasped as she shifted her position. Her muscles ached and her legs were shaking, but she moved into something like a crouch, praying her body would hold out long enough to get to safety before she inevitably collapsed.  
  
Then the rope tethering her handcuffs to the ground was cut, and she heard the jingle of a key. “Doctor’s orders. Looks like your arms get a break, sweet thing.” Savio’s breath tickled on her neck as he leaned in close, worked the key into the cuffs, unbound one wrist—  
  
She threw her arm back, elbow cracking against his face. He fell back with a grunt, and she tore herself away, stumbling as she struggled to gain her footing on unsteady legs. The other woman watched with wide eyes and leapt away from the door, running over to check on Savio. Katia didn’t spare a single glance back as she burst through the door and up the stairs.  
  
The upper door opened not into a warehouse like she had expected, but what looked like a cabin, cozy and lived-in. She paused a heartbeat to get her bearings, her hyper-alert brain taking in every detail of the tidy kitchen, the night sky through the windows, the gleaming hardwood hallways, the vase of flowers by the door— _the door_.   
  
She made it about half a dozen steps before she slammed at full speed into a man as he stepped out into the hallway.  
  
Winded, she staggered back, but he grabbed her before she could take another step. She bucked against him, shoving at his chest, but he barely seemed to feel it as he held her tight. Then she heard the footsteps behind her, and the man grappling her straightened up a bit, stood to attention.  
  
“Thank you, Anderson.” Savio’s voice was smooth, mild, absolutely terrifying. “Turn her around. Let me look at her. And put those handcuffs back on her.”  
  
Katia was spun around, her wrists cuffed in front of her. She kept her gaze low; she couldn’t bring herself to look Savio in the eye and see what lay there behind his calm facade.  
  
His hand shot out and gripped her ponytail, and he jerked her head up to face him. Gone was the easy, cocky smile he had worn while taunting her in the basement. His expression was carefully blank, but his eyes burned.   
  
He slapped her once with his free hand. She barely felt the sting of it over her dread.   
  
“Anderson. Bring her back to her room.” Savio turned without another word and stalked back to the basement. Anderson shoved her roughly and she stumbled forward, unable to go anywhere but back towards the basement door.  
  
_My room. Like I’m some petulant child being punished._ She tried to twist around to get one last look at the door, her last flicker of hope dying with each step she took. Anderson gripped her shoulders and forced her down the basement stairs once again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No. 6: No more

Anderson gave Katia a shove from behind and she stumbled down the last few steps, slamming into the cement floor with her hands cuffed in front of her. The adrenaline that had kept her going moments before was gone, and she could barely pull herself up to sitting,   
  
“Thank you, Anderson. You’re free to go.” Savio kept his eyes on her as he spoke, and the cold fury she saw in his stare sent a spike of fear through her.  
  
He took a step forward, and another, until he was looming right over her. “You really tried to run,” he said, his voice low.  
  
She knew she shouldn’t say anything. She had seriously miscalculated, made some half-baked attempt at escaping, and now she’d lost whatever element of surprise she might have had. But as she struggled to her feet, she couldn’t bite back the anger that swelled within her. “You had a _knife_. No _shit_ I tried to run, you—”  
  
Faster than her eye could track, Savio grabbed her by the hair and threw her back against the ground. She gasped in pain as her wrists cracked against the ground, cuffs digging into her skin.  
  
“I suppose I haven’t been clear enough about what your _place_ is in this game.” Katia twisted around to face him, but he kicked her with a casual cruelty and sent her sprawling on her back. “Your only job—” He kicked her again. “—is to stay here and look pathetic and _pretty_ while I hurt you until your husband does what I want.”   
  
“ _Fuck you_ ,” she snarled, lashing out in vain with her foot. “You can’t just—”  
  
His hand was on her throat pulling her towards him and his fist cracked against her face and her nose exploded with pain. Then he punched her again and her vision swam, the room spinning around her.   
  
“If I beat you enough, you won’t even be able to _try_ to run again.” She felt a rush of fear at those words, anguish at the loss of even the smallest sliver of hope. His hand on her throat was choking her. His other fist struck her again.  
  
Dazed, she brought her hands up in a feeble attempt to guard her face. “You—” His punch slammed into her stomach this time and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She heaved, struggling to catch her breath, and Savio punched her again. Her head snapped to the side, ears ringing. All she could see was his face inches from hers, radiating cold hatred, killing her.  
  
“Stop. No more.”   
  
The voice was quiet but firm. Katia blinked. Warm blood dripped from her nose. _The woman from before,_ she realized after a moment. She hadn’t even known there was another person in the room.   
  
Savio paused, his fist still raised to strike Katia once again. He didn’t turn to face the woman behind him. His voice was deadly quiet. “What did you just say to me?”  
  
The woman took a step closer. Her face was half-shrouded in shadows cast by the fluorescent light. “You’re going to kill her if you keep going. You need to stop.”  
  
Savio abruptly released his grip on Katia’s neck and she fell, head slamming into the ground. He stood and faced the woman, his body tight with coiled tension. “I don’t pay you to talk to me like that.”   
  
The woman stood her ground. “You pay me to keep your people alive and functional.” She held her gaze steady against his own. “That’s what I’m doing.”  
  
Katia held her breath as the two stared at each other in silence. Her face was throbbing.  
  
Then Savio took a step back. “You’re right. We wouldn’t want to hurt her resale value.”   
  
_My what?_ But Savio was already heading towards the door.  
  
“I’m going to go make some calls,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “You have five minutes. Do whatever you need to do.” He slammed the door behind him, and Katia and the woman were alone in the basement.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No. 7: Enemy to caretaker

The woman looked Katia over for a moment, face lined with worry. Then she knelt and opened up her bag, pulling out a penlight.   
  
“Do you know what day it is, Mrs. Sterling?” she asked, holding Katia’s eyelid open with a gentle hand as she shone the light into her eye.  
  
“Uh—” Caught off guard by the question and the touch, Katia flinched. “It’s Saturday, right? Unless I was out even longer than I thought.” She watched the other woman for a reaction. “You know. When they drugged and kidnapped me.”  
  
She wanted horror, or sympathy, or _something_ , but the woman only gave the briefest pause before continuing to examine Katia’s face. “Who is the current president?”  
  
“I’m not concussed!” Katia burst out, wrenching herself away from the woman’s probing hands. “ _Please_ , he’s going to kill me, you have to help me!”  
  
_There_ it was—the woman averted her gaze for a split second, and her eyes flashed with regret. “He’s not going to kill you,” she said after a moment. She pulled a water bottle from her bag and unscrewed the lid, passing it to Katia.  
  
_We wouldn’t want to hurt her resale value._ Savio’s cruel voice echoed in her head. She took a sip of the water, delaying the question she knew she had to ask. “What is he going to do with me?”   
  
The woman wouldn’t look directly at her, instead rummaging around in her bag. Eventually she pulled out an energy bar and a small container of pills. She handed the food and two pills to Katia. “For the pain,” she said, and then: “Hopefully your husband decides to do what’s right.”   
  
“He will.” Katia forced the words out with a confidence she didn’t truly feel. She never would have doubted Nic before, but the pain and terror of the past several hours had robbed her of every sense of security and stability she’d had in her life. She considered the pills warily. “What is this?”  
  
“For the pain,” the woman said again. She must’ve seen the doubt in Katia’s eyes, because she added, “It’s just Tylenol, I promise.”   
  
_If they want to drug me again, they’ll do it._ Her motions somewhat clumsy from the cuffs around her wrists, Katia took the pills with a large swallow of water, then opened the energy bar. “Isn’t this a bit counter-productive?” she asked. “Giving painkillers to someone you’re, um, torturing?” She’d been aiming for nonchalant joking, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her true terror at the situation.  
  
“Savio tells me to keep people alive.” The woman ran her hands down Katia’s sides, feeling the tender skin there, searching for breaks. “He doesn’t pay attention to what I do beyond that.”  
  
Katia grabbed the woman’s hand, wincing as the cuffs rubbed against the broken skin of her wrists. “Then help me. _Please._ Why are you even working for him? Can’t you see how—how fucked up this is?”   
  
The woman’s eyes widened, and she gave a sharp intake of breath. “Mrs. Sterling—”  
  
“ _Katia._ My name is Katia. Please.” This woman was the first person to give the slightest indication that she thought of Katia as a human being and not a pawn. She needed to know that someone _saw_ her.  
  
“Katia.” Not taking her eyes off Katia, the woman slowly disentangled their hands. Then she lowered her gaze to examine the wounds on Katia’s wrist. “My name is Leila,” she offered.  
  
“Leila.” Katia winced as Leila began dabbing at the wounds with an alcohol wipe. “Please. You know this is wrong. Please, help me.”  
  
Leila’s eyes darted between Katia and the door. She bit her lip, brows furrowed. “I can’t,” she said finally. “Katia, I—your husband, he’ll do what Savio said, and you’ll be fine.”   
  
_It all comes back to Nic again._ Katia shut her eyes against the rush of emotion she felt. Hope that Nic would save her from this. Despair that he might not be able to. And above both of those, bleak frustration at her inability to do anything but _wait_ and be tortured until he acted.  
  
She opened her eyes again to see Leila watching her with genuine concern, and for a moment she was struck by how young the other woman looked. A bit younger than Katia, maybe; certainly younger than Savio and his other lackeys she’d seen so far. She couldn’t help but wonder how someone like Leila ended up tangled up with these sorts of criminals.  
  
Not that it mattered, really. She wasn’t going to do anything to save Katia from more terror.  
  
“I’d hate to waste more of your time, then.” Katia drew back into herself, instinctively trying to wrap her arms around herself before the handcuffs stopped her short. “You can tell your boss his sweet thing won’t die tonight.” Leila opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again. Katia rested her head on her knees, the throbbing pain in her face faded to a dull ache, and waited to see what would be done to her next. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: No. 10 (they look so pretty when they bleed), No. 11(struggling, crying), No. 13 (breathe in breath out)

Savio came back down shortly after, his demeanor once again smug and unflappable. As if he hadn’t been beating her half to death moments before.  
  
_He won’t let me die. He’s not done with me yet._ Her face throbbed.   
  
“How’s our guest holding up?” he asked Leila. “Think she’ll make it through the night?”  
  
Leila bit her lip and glanced at Katia before answering him. “She’ll be fine as long as you—”  
  
“I don’t actually care.” Savio cut her off, crouching in front of Katia. He took her chin in one hand and turned her towards him, studying the bruises beginning to bloom across her face. “I swear, if I did everything you said I wouldn’t get to have any fun.”  
  
Leila opened her mouth to respond, shut it, watched the pair with wary eyes. “You asked,” she murmured finally.  
  
“Take this.” He tossed his phone at Leila, who just barely managed to catch it in fumbling hands. “I think we can still get a few more good pictures out of her tonight.”   
  
_Her, she._ He was talking about her like she wasn’t even there. Like she didn’t matter.   
  
And, she supposed, in his mind, she didn’t.  
  
He stood above her, eyes trailing from her hunched form to the various anchors around the room. Then he began to loop some rope through an anchor on the ceiling. “All this whining about _nerve damage_ and _going too far,_ ” he muttered, bringing the rope down and tying it to the chain holding Katia’s cuffs together. She didn’t bother trying to fight it. “This is what we _do_. You need to get used to it.”   
  
Stepping around behind Katia, Savio pulled the other end of the rope. She was hoisted up until she was just barely able to stand with her feet under her, arms pulled painfully above her head. His hands rested lightly on her shoulder blades. “Well? Any complaints about _this_ position?”  
  
Leila watched from the side, the slightest frown tugging at her face. “No, sir,” she said, gripping the phone in her hands with white knuckles.   
  
“About time.” Savio trailed one hand over Katia’s shoulders and to her collarbone as he stepped back around to face her. “You take the pictures, then,” he continued. “And I’ll make her something beautiful.”   
  
Her eyes caught the glint of the knife again, and her blood ran cold. He held the blade to her sternum, just at the neckline of her tank top, not yet pressing deep enough to cut. Her mind was blank, all thoughts gone except the need to _get away_ from the blade brushing against her skin. She struggled to balance on the tips of her toes, hands grasping blindly for something to use to pull herself up, _anything_ to put even the smallest distance between her and the blade. Savio watched impassively.  
  
Then he flicked his wrist, just barely, and sliced a thin line along her collarbone. She gasped in pain, squeezing her eyes shut against it, and heard Savio give a small sigh of contentment. “This is more like it,” he murmured. A bright, burning, flash of pain, another line sliced in the opposite direction. Symmetry. She kept her eyes squeezed shut.  
  
“Are you getting this, Hammond?” Savio’s voice sounded far away. She could hear shuffling footsteps, the faint click of the shutter. Blood beaded at her collarbone. A few thin trickles ran down her skin and dampened the edge of her tank top.  
  
Savio was standing closer now, his breath a hot tickle on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, as if she could block out all other sensations if she tried hard enough. It wasn’t working.  
  
Another sharp bite of pain, on her left arm this time. She flexed her hand instinctively, biting her lip with a soft sob. Another, slicing along her hip, parting the thin fabric of her jogging pants. Another, so dangerously close to her neck she was sure he was killing her. The smell of blood was overwhelming.  
  
Katia kept her eyes screwed shut. _I can’t look I can’t see this I can’t this can’t be real I can’t see this—_  
  
Fingers dug into one of the cuts—she wasn’t even sure where, the pain was everywhere and she was so disoriented, she couldn’t localize any of the sensations beyond agony and the smell of blood—and then he was stroking her cheek, leaving her skin tacky with blood. She shuddered, and a tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
“Doesn’t she look gorgeous, covered in blood like this?” Savio’s voice was low, and even with her eyes shut Katia could imagine how he must be looking at her. “Get a close-up of her face.” It was too much, the pain and his voice and the smell and the overwhelming sensation of blood dripping, dripping down her skin—  
  
He patted her cheek, not quite a slap. “Open your eyes, sweet thing. Look at me.”   
  
She jerked away as much as she could, shaking her head frantically. _No no no no_ —she couldn’t bring herself to look at him and see whatever sick pleasure he was getting from causing her pain, and the _blood_ —  
  
He slapped her harder this time. “I said _open your eyes._ ” His hand gripped her jaw. She opened her eyes.  
  
Savio was inches from her, his expression a twisted grin. Leila stood further back, her face hidden in shadows and the phone held in shaking hands—god, how many pictures had she taken already? And then Savio raised his other hand and Katia saw the knife held there, coated in blood— _my blood, that’s my blood_ —and something in her snapped.  
  
“No, no, no no no—” Katia’s chest was in a vice grip, she couldn’t draw in a breath—the _smell_ of the blood—  
  
“God, you should be recording this, not just taking pictures,” he called back to Leila, not taking his eyes off Katia. “She’s incredible. The things we could do with a video of this...”  
  
Some part of her _knew_ his words were dangerous, she should be horrified, but her mind was blank. All she knew was that her blood was running in rivulets down her body and soaking into her clothes and dripping onto the cement floor and staining his _knife_ and she was dying, she must be, how could there be this much blood—she gasped for air but couldn’t get any, she was drowning—  
  
“Boss.” Leila’s voice was a thousand miles away. “I think she’s gonna pass out.”  
  
“Then we keep going when she wakes back up.” Savio traced another sharp line of pain down her side. She barely felt it over her panic.  
  
“No, but she—” Leila caught herself, relaxed her tone and her posture. Deferential. “She’s not—she’s probably not even feeling it, at this point. You want her, um, _aware_ of what you’re doing, don’t you?”  
  
Was she feeling anything? Katia wasn’t sure anymore. She tried to breathe, but the only thing she could feel was the tight constriction in her chest. Leila and Savio were arguing, maybe—their voices floated in and out of her awareness, and she knew she should listen but she just _couldn’t_. Then Leila’s face swam into her field of vision.  
  
“Ka—Mrs. Sterling,” she said, voice soft. “Look at me. I need you to breathe.”  
  
Katia sobbed in a shallow breath, her eyes unfocused. Leila took her face in both hands and gently turned it to look at her. “Breathe with me. Breathe in.” She took in a slow, deep breath through her nose.  
  
Katia tried to follow, but then her eyes drifted to Savio, still watching with that self-satisfied smirk and his hands covered in her blood, and she broke down again. “No, I _can’t_ —”  
  
“Katia.” The name was whispered so only Katia could hear it. “Look at me. Not anywhere else.” Katia’s eyes slowly slid back to Leila’s face, features softened with concern. “Breathe in with me.” Katia took a deep, trembling breath. “And out.” She blew the air out through her lips. “Breathe in. Breathe out.” Slowly, gradually, Katia’s mind cleared as oxygen returned to her bloodstream, and the constriction on her chest lifted. She looked into Leila’s warm brown eyes and continued to breathe.  
  
“All calmed down now?” Savio’s voice was like a punch to the face, but Katia managed to continue breathing. Leila stepped back, something like regret written across her face.  
  
The scrape of metal on concrete rang out, and Savio dragged a chair in front of where Katia dangled. “Let’s chat for a bit, then,” he said, sitting with his arms resting on the back of the chair. “I have a few things I wanted to ask you about.” His eyes watched her like a hawk. A faint trickle of blood ran down her arm.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No. 17 (dirty secret)

The silence stretched on as Katia and Savio watched each other. Some part of her relaxed; he was sitting, he wasn’t near her, he couldn’t touch her. The rest of her knew that this was far from over.  
  
“Phone.” Savio held out one hand towards Leila, not taking his eyes off Katia. She passed the phone to him and he finally tore his gaze away to look through it, flipping idly through the images with his thumb.   
  
_Images of me, bleeding and crying and terrified and_ —Katia stopped the train of thought before it could spiral further.   
  
After a moment, Savio looked back up at her, his face unreadable. “We haven’t heard a single word from your husband since that first phone call.”  
  
Katia’s stomach plummeted. _He’s going to hurt me more, push this further until Nic_ has _to respond._ She swallowed. _Nic’s looking for me. He has to be. He isn’t answered because he’s working with the police, detectives, putting out a search. He isn’t leaving me here._  
  
Savio smiled at the clear distress playing across Katia’s face. “All those photos I sent him of you, suffering because of _him_...and he does nothing.” He sighed and drummed his fingers along the back of the chair. “He has until tomorrow morning. Then we’re moving you to our warehouse and putting you on the auction block.”  
  
The words took a moment to sink in, and then Katia’s mind went blank with terror. “No, no, you—you can’t,” she begged, as if her words could sway him at all. _How can this be real, how can something like this even be happening_ —she looked at Leila in desperation, praying she might step in again, but the other woman was silent. _He's going to sell me._ “He’ll get you what you want, just—just give him more time—”  
  
“I’ve given him _plenty_ of time,” Savio snapped, before relaxing once again. “I guess I misjudged him. I honestly thought you would be more valuable to him.”  
  
Anger flared up in her at that, and she flexed her arms against the painful pull of the chains still holding her. “He _loves_ me,” she hissed. “He’s going to get me out of here. He just doesn’t negotiate with _criminals_.”   
  
Savio stared at her in silence. Her flash of rage dimmed, and she grew uneasy under his eyes. “You really do believe that,” he finally murmured. “Sweet thing, just where do you think your husband gets all his money from?”  
  
Her skin prickled at his tone, the way he was watching her expectantly. “What are you talking about?” She studied his reaction as she spoke. “He...he’s in business. Finances. I don’t really understand the details…”  
  
“ _Business_.” His smile was so _condescending_. “You don’t get rich like that through legitimate means.”   
  
“Then please tell me just _how_ you get rich like that,” Katia growled through gritted teeth.   
  
“Domenic Sterling,” Savio said with a wide grin, “is the head of one of the largest criminal syndicates in New Barrington, and my biggest rival in the human trafficking and drug smuggling sectors.” Smug satisfaction was written across his face. " _That's_ how."   
  
_Nic...what?_ Katia blinked, momentarily breathless. He was lying, of course. It didn’t make any sense. But what was his angle? “You’re a terrible liar,” she spat, “and you’re pathetic. Trying to, what, turn me against him?”   
  
“Trust me, I wish it weren’t true,” Savio said with a shrug. “He’s been a thorn in my side for, oh, a decade now.”  
  
A _decade?_ It couldn’t be true. “That’s insane,” Katia insisted. “We’ve been married for five years! I _know_ him.”   
  
Savio laughed at that. “You _know_ him, do you?” He leaned forward over the back of the chair. “Do you _know_ what he does all day? He kidnaps people. He sells them. He tortures. He murders. And then he washes the blood off his hands and comes home to you and gives you a kiss and sits down for a romantic dinner.”   
  
Katia’s mind was whirling, and she hated the tiny nugget of doubt that was starting to make its way into her thoughts. _He’s lying. He’s trying to fuck with me._ Her heart was hammering. “There’s no way he could’ve hidden something like that from me.”   
  
Another condescending smile, like he was explaining things to a school child. “He’s spent over a decade fooling the police, the media, his business partners. You really think he couldn’t fool _you?_ ”  
  
She couldn’t help but think of all of Nic’s deflections whenever she asked him about work. _Oh, it’s just finances. You wouldn’t care about all the boring details._  
  
“Honestly, what’s more impressive to me,” Savio continued when she said nothing, “is that he managed to protect _you_ from us. There’s a lot of people who would pay a _lot_ of money to have you, just because you’re _his_.” He swept his eyes over her once. “Lucky me.”  
  
_He’s always been a bit overprotective,_ Katia thought. Always scoping out whatever restaurant they visited. Always a touch nervous whenever she would go out alone. She pushed the thoughts aside. “You’re a sick bastard,” she said instead.  
  
“Maybe I am,” Savio admitted with a shrug. “But I can promise you that your husband would be doing the exact same thing in my place if he had someone he thought he could use against me.” His eyes were glimmering under the bright light as he watched her reaction, and she hated how much he seemed to be enjoying this. “He would ransom them and torture them. And he would enjoy every minute of it.” He tilted his head, pausing to think. “I hear he’s fond of blowtorches.”   
  
Katia’s stomach churned and, absurdly, her first thought was of her and Nic baking together, laughing and kissing in the kitchen, using those little culinary blowtorches to burn the sugar on their creme brulee. Everything Savio was saying was completely insane, she knew that, and yet…  
  
She forced herself to not flinch as Savio stood, walked over to her, until his face was inches from hers. “Just remember,” he said in a low tone. “Your husband isn’t refusing to cooperate because he’s so noble and won’t work with us lowlifes.” One hand came up and brushed a stray hair back from her face. “It’s because he’s decided his little criminal empire is more important than the wellbeing of his wife.”  
  
“I don’t believe you,” she lied.  
  
He smiled. “It doesn’t matter if you believe it.” His hand lingered on her cheek for a moment, thumb brushing at the blood that had begun to dry there.   
  
Then he stepped back. “Hammond, get those cuts cleaned up.” Katia blinked in surprise as Leila moved near her; with the all-consuming shock of the conversation with Savio, she’d completely forgotten the other woman was still in the room. Savio headed for the door. “I’d hate for her to scar. We want her to look good for tomorrow.” He glanced back over at her with a nasty grin. “We’re going to have plenty of interested customers.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: No. 12 (broken trust)

Wordlessly, Leila began untying the rope hoisting Katia in the air, releasing the tension slowly and lowering her down. Katia curled into herself as soon as she was safely on the ground. Her arms were agony from being stretched for so long, and she tried to focus on that pain and not on the things—the _lies_ Savio had been feeding her.  
  
Leila knelt next to her and began digging through her medical bag, eventually pulling out some wipes. The disinfectant stung as she began cleaning the cuts, and Katia gave a small hiss of pain at the bright lines of fire across her skin.  
  
“Sorry,” Leila murmured, gently shifting aside the sliced fabric of Katia’s tank top to get at the cuts underneath.  
  
_Sorry._ Like that meant anything at all, right now. Like she wasn’t getting patched up just so she could continue to be tortured and then eventually sold like cattle, all because her _husband_ —  
  
_It’s not true._  
  
_But what if it is?_  
  
“Why are you doing this?” Katia’s voice was raspy. Leila looked up in surprise, in the middle of bandaging a long slice on Katia’s arm.  
  
“I—I don’t want you to get infected, or scar up, or—” she began, but Katia cut her off.  
  
“No, I mean _why are you working for him?_ ” She searched Leila’s eyes for the remorse she had seen earlier. “You—you’re not like him. You clearly aren’t enjoying it. So why?”  
  
Leila paused in her ministrations for a heartbeat, then continued bandaging the wounds, avoiding Katia’s gaze. “What does it matter? I do it. Can’t change what I’ve done.”   
  
“It matters.” Katia wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Reassurance, maybe, that not everyone was a sadist like Savio seemed to be. That maybe, her husband had reasons for being a part of this world beyond greed and cruelty.  
  
Leila pulled a water bottle from her bag, a snack bar, a couple of pills. “I was a nurse. Worked at—well, it doesn’t matter.” She handed the pills and water to Katia, who swallowed them without a word. “Lost my license about a year back.” She passed over the snack bar next. Katia couldn’t even imagine eating right now, but she forced herself to open it.  
  
“Anyway, I had school loans to pay off and rent to make every month and still needed to feed myself. But my old boyfriend knew a guy who knew someone who was looking to hire a nurse and didn’t care too much about the particulars.” She gave a wry smile. “Lucky me, turns out Federico Savio needed someone on hand to patch up his men whenever they were hurt, and I was a nobody with a medical education and no other options.”  
  
“And you just...you were ok with the things they do?” Katia chewed the nutrition bar, wincing at the pain in her jaw.  
  
“I _wasn’t_ —” Leila blew out a trembling breath through her mouth. “By the time I realized just what I’d gotten into, I was in too deep.” She twisted the strip of bandages in anxious fingers. “This is the first time he’s had me, uh...I mean, usually I’m just helping out his guys, you know, not—”  
  
“Not tending to his torture victims?” Leila looked away, and Katia didn’t let up. “It was easy enough when you didn’t have to actually _see_ what they were doing, what you—”  
  
Leila’s voice was laced with pain. “Not all of us can just look the other way while our dear husband murders people to pay for our charmed life.”   
  
Katia recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “I wasn’t _looking the other way,_ I didn’t even—” Her chest was tight with the growing realization that the past several years of her life were built on a lie. She took in a shuddering breath. “It’s all true, then, isn’t it. The things he said about Nic.”  
  
“ _Nic_.” Leila made a sound that might have been a sob or a laugh. “Domenic Sterling, head of the most notorious crime ring in New Barrington, probably personally killed more people than I’ve ever known in my life. And you call him _Nic_.”  
  
Katia’s stomach dropped further with every word. She was shaking her head before Leila was even through. “He’s my _husband_.”   
  
“I’m sorry.” Leila looked like she meant it. “I honestly thought you knew, like you were in on his, uh, business. Or at least _aware_ of it.”   
  
Tears welled up in Katia’s eyes. Furious, she wiped them away. “I had no idea about any of this until I woke up in this room a few hours ago.” Her mind was freshly agitated, whirling with endless thoughts.   
  
_Just drop it. Nic will save me and then we can talk this all out._  
  
 _He isn’t going to save me. I wouldn’t want to see him even if he did._  
  
 _I love him._  
  
 _I have no idea who he is._  
  
“Did you ever meet him?” Katia regretted the question as soon as she asked it, but she needed to know. She couldn’t stop digging for more information. “Nic, I mean. Did you ever see him while you were...working?”  
  
Leila was silent for a long moment, as if weighing her words carefully. “I saw him once, at a distance,” she said finally. “He had one of our guys and was—” She swallowed, averted her gaze a moment. Then she looked Katia in the eye. “He was torturing Jake.” Katia shuddered. “He wanted information.”  
  
Katia searched Leila’s face for any hint that she was lying, _anything_ she could cling to to convince herself this wasn’t real. She only saw raw, painful honesty.  
  
“Sterling got away when we busted in to save Jake,” Leila continued. “And when we found Jake, he was…” She bit her lip, then pressed on. “You don’t need the details, but—it was fucked up, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before, he didn’t make it, and he died in _agony_ asking for his mom.” Katia met Leila’s eyes, and they were shimmering with unshed tears under the fluorescent light. “That was the only time I came close to meeting Domenic Sterling.”  
  
Katia realized she wasn’t breathing, and she drew in a slow breath, her eyes locked on Leila’s. “I—” She had no clue what she was going to say. There was nothing she _could_ say. She shut her mouth.   
  
Leila took Katia’s hand in both of her own and rubbed the back with her thumbs, one of the few places Katia wasn’t bruised or cut or broken. “I know,” she whispered. Then she began to pack up her supplies, standing up and making her way to the door.  
  
At the door, Leila glanced back at Katia where she was curled on the ground. She lingered a moment in silence, and the two watched each other. Then she stepped out without another word, and Katia was alone.   



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: No. 19 (broken hearts), No. 23 (exhaustion, sleep deprivation)

Katia curled up on the ground, the unyielding cement cruel against her bruises and cuts. In the sudden silence of the empty room, her body sank deeper into exhaustion. _What time is it? How long have I been here?_ It had already been dark when she’d run upstairs earlier. Maybe she would get a few moments’ peace while everyone slept. She almost laughed at the thought of it.  
  
Rolling onto her back, Katia gingerly stretched her legs out, shifted her cuffed wrists in an attempt to find a comfortable position. The medication took the edge off the pain, leaving her with a dull ache all over her body. The bright fluorescent lights shone through her shut eyelids.   
  
_Did Nic ever keep someone like this?_  
  
The thought formed and then, like water breaking through a levee, her mind was flooded with memories. All the nights he’d call her saying he would be home late, work was so _busy_ , _please don’t stay up_. The dodged questions, the excuses. Then the apologies and flowers and fancy nights out.  
  
She’d once thought he was having an affair. What she wouldn’t give now for that to be the truth.   
  
The hum of the lights above her was deafening. Had they always been that loud? It felt like a swarm of bees inside her skull. She rolled onto her side, wanting the buzzing to stop, wanting her _thoughts_ to stop. She gripped her head in tense hands, nails digging into her scalp.  
  
Nic’s hands had always been so gentle. Fingers running through her hair, knuckles massaging the knots from her tense muscles, palm cupping her cheek while he ran a thumb over her lips and gazed at her in adoration. How could hands like that be capable of cruelty? Would he think of her as he washed the blood from his hands, shifting his persona from the brutal criminal leader to the picture-perfect husband? How could he come home and love her with hands that had killed?  
  
Katia had no idea how much time had already passed. The pain was creeping back into her body, the medicine slowly wearing off. She shifted onto her back again, tears springing to her eyes at the fresh wave of pain the movement brought. She was acutely aware now of every cut and bruise: the long lines of the knife traced over her body in stripes of agony, the tender bruises on her face and stomach that ached with every slightest twitch, the tears at her wrists where the cuffs were digging in, the abrasions on her knees from hours of kneeling, the tight tension coiled in her chest from an endless night of abject terror.   
  
Each new pang of pain felt as if she were being beaten all over again. She squeezed her eyes shut, and through the haze of lights dancing beneath her eyelids, she saw Savio raising a fist to hit her again, but then no, it was Nic, and he was reaching an open hand out to help her up, but then his hand was holding a knife and he stabbed it into her heart, twisting, and she gasped out and jerked back to awareness. She lifted her cuffed hands to her chest and felt her heart hammering through the fabric of her tank top.   
  
_He died in agony asking for his mom._ Leila’s voice rang through Katia’s mind. Savio had been all sly grins and vicious mockery, and it was easy to convince herself he had been lying just to hurt her. But when Leila spoke about Nic, it wasn’t with the casual cruelty of a sadist. It was with pain and anguish and complete honesty, and it hurt Katia more than any of Savio’s pointed taunts.   
  
The minutes ticked on, and exhaustion dragged her down, turning her thoughts sluggish and disjointed. _I should_ do _something, try to find a way out while they’re sleeping…_ She rolled onto her side again and even that small movement left her drained. Her eyes flicked around the brightly-lit room, from the cabinet in the corner secured with a heavy padlock, to the door looming at the far wall, taunting her. That door could open up right that minute and she wasn’t sure she could even stand up to walk out it. She was just so _tired_.  
  
And her life was never going to go back to what it had been before.  
  
The slow, crushing realization weighed her down like a stone. She realized she was crying, tears rolling silently down her bruised cheeks. She didn’t have the energy to brush them away. It didn’t matter if Nic was coming to help her or not. Even if he walked through that door and carried her out of the basement himself, her world had irrevocably shifted.   
  
Somehow, among her spiraling memories and the pain of her injuries, her body gave into its exhaustion and she fell into a fitful sleep. As she drifted, she heard the echo of Leila’s voice in her head, felt the phantom touch of Savio’s cruel hands, saw the ghost of Nic’s warm smile. Then she finally sank into the oblivion of a dreamless sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: No. 4 (running out of time), No. 24 (blindfolded), No. 26 (if you thought the head trauma was bad...)

Katia jerked awake, disoriented and groggy, at the sound of a door banging open. For one blessed moment, she forgot where she was. Then she looked up and saw the face of the man walking in, and it all came crashing back down.   
  
“Did you sleep well?” Savio asked, striding into the room with Leila trailing behind him. He looked giddy with excitement; she looked miserable. Katia pulled herself up to sitting, wincing at the ache in her stiff muscles. She’d managed to sleep eventually, somehow, but the exhaustion in her body was bone-deep.   
  
Savio crouched next to her, brushing back loose strands of hair from her face. She averted her gaze, refusing to voice the question they both knew she wanted to ask: _did Nic ever answer you?_ In her heart, she already knew the answer. She didn’t want to hear it from Savio.  
  
He didn’t give her the luxury of ignoring it. “Twelve hours later, and no word from your husband,” he said, taking her face in both his hands and tilting her to look him in the eye. “I’d say I’m disappointed in him, but, well, I make a profit either way. Doesn’t really matter to me.” His lips curved in a smile. “And I got to spend a lovely evening with you.”   
  
She managed something of a glare at him, and he laughed and held his phone up to her face. “One last picture for the road,” he said, and the shutter sounded. Katia closed her eyes in disgust. “Hammond’s just going to check you over real quick,” he added, patting Katia on the cheek. “Make sure there isn’t any permanent damage. I’d hate to have to sell you at a discount.”  
  
Katia opened her eyes and looked over at Leila, who was unpacking her medical bag with the air of a woman walking to her doom. She moved closer to Katia with wide eyes, glancing back at Savio before beginning to check over the cuts and bruises from the previous night.  
  
Katia couldn’t help herself—she grabbed Leila’s wrist, the chains of her handcuffs jangling. “Please,” she whispered. “You need to get me out of here. _Please._ ” She could feel the clock ticking, seconds slipping away like grains of sand. Dread gripped her heart. If they took her out of here to this... _warehouse_ , she didn’t know if she would ever be free again.   
  
Savio chuckled as Leila gently pried Katia’s hands off. “How’d you get her to beg for you like that?” he asked. “It’s cute.” Leila’s eyes were as wide as saucers and her hands were trembling. _She won’t do a damn thing with Savio here,_ Katia realized.  
  
“W-will you be the one taking her to the warehouse, sir?” Leila asked, changing the bandage on one of the longer cuts on Katia’s arm.   
  
“Hmm?” Savio glanced up from where he’d been checking his phone. “No, I’ll be going ahead to finalize a few more things. Peters should be coming down here in a bit to grab her, once you make sure she’s all ready.”   
  
Leila bit her lip, shifting her posture so that her back was completely to Savio. “And what about Anderson?” she asked, her eyes watching Katia’s face.  
  
“He’s staying behind to clean things up here.” Savio’s tone was laced with annoyance. “For god’s sake, Hammond, try to keep up with what’s going on.”   
  
_She’s trying to get me information._ So besides Katia herself, there were just the four of them in this cabin: Savio, Leila, Peters, Anderson. And if Savio was leaving ahead of the others, that just left three…  
  
Not that it mattered. What was she going to do, fight off two fully-armed men while she was handcuffed and exhausted? But her nerves were tingling with anticipation, and some tiny part of her seized this sliver of a chance. _I have to try. I can’t let them march me out of here like this._ She couldn’t trust her husband anymore. She would have to trust herself.   
  
Then Leila turned Katia’s hand over as she tended to the wounds at her wrist, and something small and hard was being pressed into her palm. Leila closed Katia’s fist, gently pressing the fingers together, and then studied her face with soft brown eyes. _I’m sorry,_ she mouthed.   
  
Brushing the front of her pants off in a self-conscious gesture, Leila stood, grabbing her medical bag. “She’s all good,” she said to Savio, finally turning back to face him. “The bruising is going down and should be gone within a day or two, and the cuts shouldn’t scar.” _Well, thank goodness I won’t_ scar _after all this,_ Katia thought. Her fist was still closed tight around whatever Leila had handed her.  
  
Savio gave a smug smirk. “Perfect. We’ll be getting top value out of you, sweet thing.” He let his eyes linger over her for a moment, then turned on his heels and headed for the door. “I have to go arrange a few things with our clients,” he told Leila. “You go help Anderson finish up his project.” Leila looked back at Katia one last time, her expression once again smooth and professional. Then the door shut behind both of them.  
  
Katia’s heart was pounding. After a moment, she opened up the fingers of the fist she’d been holding. In her palm sat a bobby pin.  
  
She stared at it, at the cuffs chaining her wrists together, at the small hole for the key. With nervous fingers, she took the bobby pin in one hand, just barely able to twist her wrist at the right angle to get the pin in the keyhole. Then she began to work the pin through the mechanism. _I’m getting out of here._  
  
***  
  
Picking handcuffs was _not_ as easy as the youtube tutorials had led her to believe.  
  
She couldn’t angle the bobby pin right with her wrists bound like this, so she tried using her teeth, but that was so clunky and she jus _t couldn’t get it_ and Peters or whoever was going to come down any minute and take her and then she’d lose any chance she had of escape—  
  
Forcing herself to relax, Katia took a moment to breathe. Her gaze drifted around the room, as if she’d suddenly find a solution sitting in front of her—and then her eyes locked on the cabinet. _Maybe…_  
  
Staggering to her feet, bobby pin clutched in one hand, she stepped over to the cabinet on unsteady legs. It was secured with a heavy padlock. She held the padlock in her other hand, shutting her eyes, thinking back on all the lockpicking guides she’d read as a bored and slightly anxious college student. _Something about the tension and the pins and…_  
  
She jumped as the door behind her slammed open, the bobby pin slipping from her fingers as she whipped around to see Peters storm into the room. She took a step towards him, not even fully sure what she was planning to do, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her back into the cabinet. Her head cracked against the hard metal and she saw stars.  
  
“What, were you gonna fight me or something? _Cute,_ ” he snarled, pressing her harder against the cabinet. His face swam into view, still harshly bruised from where she’d kicked him the other day. She felt a small swell of pride at that.  
  
One hand still holding her, his other hand dug into his pocket and pulled out a length of fabric. “Don’t try anything while I put this on you,” he spat, removing his other hand to begin winding the fabric around her head.  
  
_He’s blindfolding me._ No, she couldn’t let that happen, she couldn’t get away if she couldn’t see and he had his hands all over her—she jerked her head back and flicked her gaze all around the room, from his face to the door, wondering if she should make a break for it. Then he grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the cabinet again, and her skull exploded with pain.  
  
“I _said_ —” He began wrapping the blindfold around her eyes, more forceful this time. “—don’t _try_ anything.”   
  
Her world went dark as the fabric was secured. Her head was throbbing, adding to the aches of everything that had come before. Peters’s hands were rough on her shoulders as he shoved her forward. She stumbled a few steps, terrified of tripping, and then he was guiding her towards the stairs.   
  
_I know where I am. I was here before._ The cement of the stairway gave way to smooth hardwood floors under her feet, and she strained to remember what she had seen in her frantic escape attempt last night. There was a kitchen somewhere to her right, she remembered. He shoved her the other way instead, towards the door she’d gotten so close to escaping through. The front landing had been tidy and homey, twin tables covered in knick-knacks lining the hall to the door.   
  
“Where’s Savio?” she asked as he forced her down the hall.  
  
“Don’t worry about that,” Peters said with another harsh push. “You’re coming with me.”   
  
Katia tilted her head as she was moved along, listening desperately for talking, footsteps, anything to tell her there was another person in the room. She only heard the sound of her own nervous breathing. _Just the two of us, then._  
  
Peters let go of her a moment and she heard the jingle of a key. _So the front door was locked anyway,_ she couldn’t help but think. She knew she had to take this split-second chance while he was distracted. Hands shaking, praying he wasn’t staring right at her, she reached up and pulled the blindfold off her eyes.  
  
His back was to her, fumbling with the keys to the door. She barely had a second to catch her bearings before he turned around.  
  
“What—” he began, but she moved on pure instinct. She grabbed a pot of flowers from one of the tables and swung it at his head. The pot shattered, sending a spray of water and petals on the ground, and he staggered to the side.  
  
Katia’s blood was roaring in her ears, adrenaline pumping through her. Peters’s face twisted into a snarl as he pulled a knife from his belt. Panicked, she shoved him in a fit of desperation. He tried to lunge at her, but instead slipped in the water that had spilled. His head hit the corner of the opposite table with a crack and he fell bonelessly to the ground.  
  
Katia stared at him in stunned silence. Blood was seeping out from the back of his head. He wasn’t moving.   
  
She realized she was holding her breath and she gasped. _Did I kill him?_ She took a step backwards, hitting the table behind her. _Did I just kill someone?_ She clutched her hands close to her heart, waiting for him to move, searching for the rise and fall of his chest.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Her mind was blank as she slowly shifted her gaze from the body lying in front of her to the door. She stepped over the spreading pool of blood and pushed the door open, walking out into the morning fog.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: No. 10 (trail of blood), No. 19 (mourning loved one)

Katia stepped out of the cabin, breathed in the crisp morning air, and took in her surroundings.  
  
She wasn’t in the city, or _anywhere_ she recognized. A single dirt path led from the cabin into the woods surrounding her on all sides, and a few cars were parked in the grass. Mist clung to the ground in tendrils, dew dampening her ankles as she took a hesitant step forward.  
  
She immediately stumbled. Barely managing to catch herself, she gasped, her head swimming. _I’ve lost too much blood,_ she decided, and as she lifted her cuffed wrists she saw that several of the neat lines Savio had carved into her had broken open and were bleeding again. She watched the blood ooze for a dazed moment, and then her eyes trailed down to a fresher cut slicing along the very edge of her waist. _Peters, pulling a knife from his belt and lunging at her—Peters lying on the ground with a pool of blood seeping around his head_ —she squeezed her eyes shut as if to block out the memories, and the cut on her stomach throbbed in pain.  
  
_I’m not walking out of here._ She had no clue where she was and she was on the verge of passing out. Blinking, she stumbled against the passenger door of the nearest car, jerking the handle. Locked. She crossed the path to the other car and tried it, but it was locked as well.   
  
Staring down the dirt path that disappeared into the woods, then turning back to face the cabin, her body thrummed with mingled dread and cold determination. _I’m just going to find some keys,_ she told herself. _Peters is—he won’t bother me any more, and Leila…_  
  
Movement through the window caught her eye. A figure walking through the house, _shit_. _That other guy._ What was his name? _Anderson_. She ducked down, like that would hide her if he decided to look out the window, _stupid_.   
  
It was fine. There had to be a back entrance somewhere, or an open window. She would just crawl around the house. And pray no one noticed the trail of blood she was surely leaving streaked in the grass.  
  
Now that she’d stepped outside, felt the grass on her skin and the cool breeze in her hair, she couldn’t let go of the thought that she _might_ make it out of here. Her mind was crystal clear, singularly focused on escape. _It’s fine. I just have to find some keys._  
  
The damp dirt irritated her cuts, left muddy streaks on her skin and clothes. She kept close to the side of the house as she crawled. It was a peaceful morning, but not completely quiet; a few birds were chirping, the wind whispered through the trees, and Katia’s own labored breathing was oddly harsh in her own ears as she struggled to pull herself forward with her bound hands. Then she saw curtains billowing out a window in the morning breeze and her breath caught in her throat.   
  
Slowly, so slowly, she lifted herself up to look in the window, braced to be met with the barrel of a gun to her face. There was only silence and a dark, empty room. She hoisted herself over the sill, hissing in pain as the movement aggravated her injuries. Her hands left smears of blood on the wood.  
  
As she rolled gracelessly into the room, her eyes adjusted to the dim indoor lighting, and she took in her surroundings. An office of some sort, with a gleaming wooden desk and shelves lined with leather-bound books. She gripped the edge of the desk with slippery fingers and hauled herself to standing, eyes already searching the room, because if this was an office then maybe there was a _phone_.   
  
She kept one eye on the door as she searched, praying no one would walk in on her. The desk was cluttered but organized, covered in files and loose sheets of paper. Her mind was racing as she shuffled through the clutter. If there was a phone, she could call Nic—no, not him. They’d already called him. She’d call the police, then, and then she’d curl up under this desk and wait for them to show up— _no_. She had no clue where she was, she wouldn’t know what to say to them, she couldn’t count on them to come here. She’d have to call them and then go find the keys and get away. But her head was still spinning and she felt dizzy every time she moved, and what if she passed out before she got to safety—  
  
Her scanning eyes stopped on a photo among the papers and her blood ran cold. Picking it up with shaking hands, she held it up to the weak sunlight streaming through the window, confirming what she saw.  
  
A photo of her and Nic, arm in arm, walking downtown together. She was wearing her sleek cocktail dress and her hair was styled in loose waves; he had that effortless charm he always had in his button-up and charcoal slacks. Katia remembered this night—the ballet was in town, so they’d gone to opening night, and then they’d gotten drinks downtown after at the rooftop bar. She could pick out the landmarks in this photo, recognize exactly where in the city they had been. She’d had no idea anyone was taking her photo.  
  
Her gaze was drawn back to the assortment of files and papers on the desk, background clutter that now concealed something more sinister. She shuffled past several bills and found another photo, this one of Nic giving a speech at the opening of a new branch of the public library. She’d felt so proud when he got the invitation to speak, and he looked so confident and collected, standing up there and giving his lecture to the crowd.   
  
The next photo was Nic, a gun in his hand, his expression stony.  
  
She stared at the photo, her mind slowly processing. He wasn’t looking at the camera; his gaze was directed at someone just out of sight, and his eyes blazed with cold fury. He held the gun easily by his side, like it was just an extension of his arm. She couldn’t help but remember the time they’d gone to the shooting range together, just to try something new, and Nic had been so nervous and clumsy around the guns, as if he’d never held one before. The man in this photo seemed perfectly at ease.  
  
Who had even taken this photo? Was Savio pulling his phone out in the middle of a—a _business negotiation,_ snapping photos to use against him later? The sound of the shutter echoed in her mind, and she could almost see Savio shoving the phone in her face to capture the frozen image of her fear and pain.   
  
Beneath that photo, she found a note, scrawled in handwriting she would recognize anywhere.   
  
_We need to talk about just who controls the Northeastern corridor, and about this rat of yours that wandered into my business. 1125 Strickland Avenue. July 25th. 11 pm. I’ll take a finger for every minute you’re late after that. Come alone, or I’ll take his entire hand._  
  
There was a smear of reddish-brown blood in the corner of the page. Katia’s eyes glazed over as she stared at it, the words blurring as she lost focus. Suddenly she was in the kitchen of her home, holding a love letter Nic had left her before he took off for a business trip. The _lo_ in _alone_ looked just like the way he’d written _love_. The blood in the corner could be a heart.  
  
A _business trip_.   
  
Katia shut her eyes a moment to stop the tears from falling, clutching the paper in tight hands. She could deny Savio’s words; she could even convince herself Leila had been mistaken. But there was no mistaking the note she held, and the pointed brutality of the words written in her husband’s own hand. She took in a shaking breath and tried to allow herself to grieve the love she thought she had once had.   
  
“Found her.”  
  
Katia’s eyes flew open at the voice and she automatically stumbled a step back before she even processed what she was seeing. _Anderson_. She’d gotten wrapped up in the moment, let her guard down, and now he was watching her with hard eyes from the doorway. One hand held a phone up to his ear, and the other had a gun pointed directly at her.  
  
“She was digging around in your office,” Anderson said to whoever was on the line— _Savio, it must be Savio._ “What—I’m not gonna _kill_ her, Jesus, but I’m not—she killed _Peters,_ for fuck’s sake.”   
  
Katia’s heart was hammering as her vision narrowed to the gun pointed at her. The paper slipped from between her fingers as she slowly raised her cuffed hands, as if she could protect herself if he decided to shoot.  
  
Anderson took another step into the room, his expression darkening. “You don’t need to come back here,” he snarled. “I have her completely under contro—”  
  
A crack, and the deafening bang of a gunshot, and Katia threw herself back against the wall with a scream. For a moment she was terrified to move, braced against the wall with her eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the inevitable explosion of pain in her stomach or shoulder or heart.   
  
The pain didn’t come. Slowly, she opened her eyes.  
  
Anderson was sprawled on the ground. The phone and gun had both fallen from his hands and were lying next to him, a tinny voice just barely audible from the phone. Leila stood above him with a baton clutched in her hands, panting heavily.  
  
They stared at each other for several heartbeats. Not breaking eye contact, Leila slowly crouched down and picked up the phone. She pressed the _end call_ button without a word and let the phone drop from her hand as she straightened back up.   
  
Finally, she spoke. “You didn’t use the bobby pin.”  
  
Katia couldn’t help but give an incredulous laugh. “You think I know how to pick a lock?”   
  
Leila smiled at that, but it was tinged with regret. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything better. Or sooner.”   
  
Katia swallowed. She couldn’t allow herself to imagine, just yet, how things would be different if Leila had acted sooner. A bit of blood dripped from the cut on her side. “Do you have a car?”  
  
Leila’s eyes flicked down to the unconscious man at her feet, then back up to Katia. Her gaze lingered on the fresh cut, and she nodded.  
  
Steeling herself, Katia stepped away from the wall and moved towards the other woman. She kept wary eyes on Leila as she approached, just barely daring to trust. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, and she managed to keep her voice from trembling. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: No. 5 (Where do you think you're going?), No. 7 (support)

As Katia stepped around the desk and towards the door, she couldn’t help looking down at where Anderson lay sprawled. She could just barely make out the steady rise and fall of his chest. Inches from his hand, his gun lay, the steel glinting in the weak sunlight filtering through the window.  
  
Ignoring Leila’s eyes on her, Katia crouched and picked up the gun. It was heavy in her hands, and she swallowed. She had a vague idea of how to shoot it, from the few lessons she’d taken years ago, but she wasn’t sure how well she could shoot with her wrists still bound. _Not that it matters. I’m not shooting anyone. I’m getting out of here._ But she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of the gun.  
  
She stood up and a wave of nausea washed over her, so strong her vision went black for a brief moment. Leila was at her side in an instant, gentle hands wrapping around her shoulders and holding her steady.   
  
“Let’s go,” Leila whispered, and her eyes flicked down to Katia’s hands. “Do you—do you need me to hold that for you?”  
  
Blinking, Katia followed Leila’s gaze to the gun clutched in her hands. “No,” she said, tightening her grip on the weapon. “I just—need this for now.”  
  
Leila nodded, and instead shifted so that one arm was supporting Katia while the other carried the medical bag. “Lean on me.”   
  
As the pair stepped out of the office and made their way through the cabin, Katia sunk deeper into exhaustion and allowed herself to lean more heavily on Leila. Leila supported her easily.   
  
“I’m sorry about that,” Leila said, and her eyes were on the handcuffs again. “Savio has the only key, and I just—there’s no way I could’ve gotten it off of him, or—”  
  
“It’s fine,” Katia cut in, even though it wasn’t fine at all. _Yes it is. As soon as we get out of here, we’ll have all the time we need to pick the lock or whatever._ They’d be safe and no one would be able to hurt her anymore.  
  
They entered the front hall and Katia stopped short, her stomach churning.   
  
Peters was lying exactly where she’d left him, blood still congealing around his head. His eyes were frozen half-open, she could see now, as if he were watching her. She took a step back.  
  
“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok.” Leila moved to block her view. “Don’t look at him. Just look at the door.” She stepped aside, and Katia shut her eyes for a heartbeat before slowly opening them to stare straight ahead.  
  
The door slammed open and Savio stepped inside.  
  
Their eyes met, and even as Katia’s heart stopped in terror her hands were already raising to aim the gun at him, freezing him in place with his hands halfway to his own weapon.  
  
Savio watched her like a hawk, lifting his empty hands and stepping over Peters’s dead body to move closer to her.  
  
“D-don’t move,” she hissed, shifting her grip on the gun. “Don’t you dare fucking move.”  
  
His hands were still raised, his expression innocent. “Are you leaving?” He offered an easy smile. “Go on, then.”  
  
Katia’s head was spinning, and she wanted to look to Leila but didn’t dare take her eyes off Savio. “You’re not just gonna let me walk out. I’m not an idiot.”  
  
“I’m not an idiot either.” Savio took another step closer. “You don’t live long in this business if you try to argue with someone pointing a gun at you.” Still watching Katia, he jerked his head back towards Peters. “I’d rather not end up like _him_.”   
  
Katia resisted the urge to look at the corpse once again. “He pulled a knife on me,” she whispered, desperate to justify it to herself if not him. “He was gonna—”  
  
“Oh, I’m not saying I blame you at all.” A loose shrug of his shoulders, and another step closer. “I do wonder how his kids will take the news.”  
  
“His…” Katia’s hands were trembling as she held the gun pointed at Savio. “He has _kids?_ ”  
  
“ _Had._ ” Savio took another step closer. “Nine and four years old.” He took another step. He was so close now. Katia felt frozen to the spot.   
  
“Of course,” Savio continued, his eyes glimmering, “they have no clue what he really did.” He took another step closer. “They think he was just a _businessman_.”  
  
The words were like a dagger to her heart. “I’m not…” She didn’t even know what she wanted to say. Her strength flagged, and the barrel of the gun she held dipped down slightly.  
  
Savio struck like a snake, slamming himself into her, his hands scrabbling for the gun she held. She screamed and squeezed the trigger.  
  
The bang echoed, and her arms wrenched back painfully from the recoil of the shot. Her ears were ringing. Savio sprawled on the ground before her, dead.  
  
 _He’s dead._  
  
Breathing in short, shallow breaths, Katia turned to Leila. The other woman was saying something, but Katia couldn’t hear it over the ringing in her ears. She shook her head instinctively and took a step back. The smell of blood was so thick in the air, she thought she might choke on it.  
  
_I just shot someone and killed him. After he tortured me for twelve hours._  
  
Leila crouched down, and Katia’s eyes started to follow her before jerking back up abruptly to stare at a wall. She wasn’t ready to look. Everything around her felt fuzzy.  
  
Then Leila swam into view, and as she stepped closer Katia could hear what she was murmuring. “—ok. You’re ok,” Leila said, holding up the key for Katia to see before gently removing the handcuffs. “You’re ok.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: No. 9 (for the greater good), Alt. 14 (shot)

With the cuffs off her wrists, Katia felt like she could truly breathe for the first time in hours. She flexed her arms, wincing as the movement sent pain radiating through her body, and then examined the abrasions on her wrists. The harsh metal of the cuffs had dug deep, and the skin was raw and red with beads of blood.  
  
“Let me take a look at those.” Leila’s voice was warm with concern as her eyes traced over the wounds on Katia’s wrists. “And that.” She nodded at the slice on Katia’s waist, tacky with blood.  
  
Swallowing down her nausea, Katia shook her head. “We need to get out of here.” One hand still clutched the gun in tight, nervous fingers, and she couldn’t bring herself to let go. She refused to look down at the body lying at her feet. “Please. We need to go.”   
  
Leila bit her lip and, with a final sweeping glance along Katia’s injuries, moved to support her once again. They staggered across the room, Katia keeping her eyes firmly on the door ahead of them, carefully lifting her feet to step over the dead body of Peters lying in the entranceway.   
  
_He had kids._ Was that even true? Had Savio just been lying, trying to distract her so he could make a grab for the gun? Did it make a difference, either way?  
  
Leila pulled the door open and they stepped outside, and for the second time that morning Katia was struck by the scents and sounds and sunlight of the world outside the cabin. Overwhelmed by the sensations, it took a minute for her to pick out the sound of an engine, dirt crunching under wheels, and then a car emerged from the dark of the trees to stop at the edge of the cabin grounds.   
  
A car she would recognize anywhere. A car she would watch for, sometimes, late at night, when her husband was working long hours.  
  
Nic was here.  
  
He was out of the car and running towards her in an instant, nearly shoving Leila aside in his haste to be with her, and for a moment all of Katia’s pain and fear and anguish dissipated as she collapsed into his arms. His touch, his _touch_ was so warm and gentle and loving as his hands brushed her hair back from her face, his lips found hers and pulled her into a tender kiss, and she could just melt in his arms and never have to know anything again but the touch of his hands—  
  
Hands coated in blood. Hands that had tortured. Hands that had killed.   
  
She drew away and studied his face. He didn’t even seem to realize. His eyes were exploring every inch of her, almost in awe, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Katia, oh my god.” His voice was hushed. “I wasn’t too late.”  
  
“Why didn’t you come sooner?” She didn’t want her first words to him to be an accusation, but they slipped out all the same.   
  
“I came as soon as I could.” His tone was heavy with regret. “I—god, Katia, I pulled out everything I could to find you. I didn’t stop for an instant until I got here.” His frown deepened as he looked over the cuts on her body, the bruises marring her face. “Savio will pay for every single thing he did to you.”  
  
Katia swallowed against a lump in her throat, heard the faint echo of a gunshot ring through her mind. One sweaty hand was still clutching the gun. “He’s dead.”  
  
Nic looked genuinely shocked. “He’s _what?_ ”  
  
“Dead.” Katia let out a slow breath. “I killed him.”  
  
“You—you killed Federico Savio?” He pulled her in for another tight hug and pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. “My beautiful, brave wife.”   
  
Even as she wanted to sink into his touch again, she braced herself for what she knew she needed to ask. Pulling away again so she could clearly see his face, she said, “Nic...how do you know him?”  
  
His face wrinkled with a practiced confusion, and his lies fell with an easy smoothness that left her cold. “I don’t _know_ him, I just know he’s a criminal and—”  
  
“Nic.” Katia wondered why she didn’t feel hurt by his lies. All she felt was numb. “Tell me the truth.”  
  
Nic’s expression hardened then, and it set Katia on edge. “What did he tell you?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter what he told me.” _Or what Leila told me, or what your own handwriting told me._ “I want to hear what _you_ have to say.”  
  
“I wanted to protect you from this life.” Nic took her face in both his hands, and she felt the pads of his fingers gentle on her bruised cheeks. “Keep you safe. I love you, Katia, and— _don’t you dare move._ ”  
  
Katia flinched at the sudden venom in his voice, but he was turned to glare at Leila, who had been slowly edging away from the pair. Leila stood rooted to the spot as Nic watched her with eyes like chips of ice. “Don’t think you’re getting away either. I’ll deal with you next.”  
  
Katia shuddered at the voice. He sounded like _Savio_. Suddenly she couldn’t stand to be touched by him another second. She pushed off of him, needing his hands _away_ from her, her voice breaking. “Nic—”  
  
“Katia, this doesn’t have to change anything.” Nic’s voice was back to warm concern so quickly it left her dizzy. “I promise I’ll never, ever let anyone touch you again. We can still have the life we’ve always had together. I’ll make sure you have anything you could ever want.”  
  
_I’ll take a finger for every minute you’re late after that._ Katia’s stomach recoiled in horror. _Come alone, or I’ll take his entire hand._ The gun in her hand felt like a hot iron, and her mind flashed with the photo of Nic holding a gun, eyes cold. “How—how could you think I want _this?_ The things you’ve done...how many people have you sold? Tortured? _Killed?_ ”   
  
His face was grim. “I’ve had to make a lot of sacrifices to get to where I am today.” _Including me,_ Katia couldn’t help but think. “But you never have to worry about all of this ever again.”  
  
Angry tears pricked at Katia’s eyes, and she reached up to brush them away. “You were willing to let me _die_ for...for _all of this_.”  
  
“Katia, please.” Nic looked genuinely remorseful, and his hands were on her again, light, romantic touches to her hair, her face, caressing her skin. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”  
  
She didn’t answer. He continued. “I love you so, so much.” He looked pained at what he had to say. “But I just…” He sighed. “Some things are more important than one person’s life.”   
  
There it was, then.  
  
Her mind was swirling with memories of their lives together, every moment they had shared. His endless support during the most difficult times of her life.  
  
How quickly he’d been willing to let all of that go, as soon as it threatened this life. His life of cruelty, built into an empire off the broken lives he left in his wake. The lives he had taken and crushed into nothing, all to further his own position.   
  
She searched his face for any trace of the man she had once loved. There was nothing.  
  
_Some things are more important than one person’s life._  
  
Her mind went blank.  
  
“Maybe you’re right,” she said.  
  
She raised the gun in her hands and shot him in the heart.  
  
She was ready for the recoil this time, and her arms didn’t move as the bullet was fired. Her eyes were already blurring with tears and she didn’t even see her husband’s body drop to the ground. The gun fell from her hands.  
  
She turned to Leila, tears streaming down her face. “ _Fuck,_ ” she whispered, and she collapsed.  
  
Leila darted out, just managing to catch her before she hit the ground. Katia blinked and looked up at Leila, and her eyes were wide but her voice was calm. Professional. “Ok. Ok. We’re going to go to my car now.” She hoisted Katia back up to standing. “We’re going to my car. It’s right down there.”  
  
“Take Nic’s car,” Katia heard herself say. “It’s closer. Faster.” _Nic’s dead._ All she could think was how _easy_ it had been.  
  
Leila guided her over to the car, opened up the back door. The car was still running, and as Katia lay across the back seat, the gentle hum of the motor was a vibration deep within her bones. Her eyes were already drifting shut as Leila looked her over.   
  
“You’ve stopped bleeding for now,” Leila said, as if that was anything that mattered at all right now. Who cared if she was bleeding? She wouldn’t die. Not like Nic.   
  
As she sunk deeper into exhaustion, she was vaguely aware of Leila getting in the driver’s seat. She began to drive, and the car was smooth over the bumps of the dirt path. “Please don’t crash,” Katia mumbled, her words already slurring with sleep. “That’s the last thing we need right now.” Through the window, she could see glimpses of blue sky between the thick leaves of the trees. Her eyes drifted shut, and she fell into a deep sleep. 


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: No. 19 (grief), No. 29 (reluctant bed rest), Alt. 3 (comfort)

“Katia.”  
  
Katia stirred at the sound of her own name. Something hard was digging into her back, and she felt cool leather on her bare arms, and her legs were curled and cramping up.   
  
Blearily, she opened her eyes to see the backseat of Nic’s car. The seatbelt was digging into her, and her skin was sticking to the leather of the seats. Tilting her head back slightly, she saw Leila standing outside, the back door of the car open.  
  
“Where are we?” Katia asked, her mind still in a fog.  
  
“I got us a room in a motel.” Leila already had her medical bag slung over one shoulder. “You need some rest.”  
  
All at once, the events of the past hours came crashing back into Katia’s mind. “No,” she cried out, her head spinning. “No, I killed—” She wrenched herself up to sitting and choked out a sob as her body flared with fresh pain at the movement. “We can’t stop,” she pleaded. “We need to keep going, they’re gonna find us—”  
  
“Katia,” Leila interrupted, her voice soft and soothing. “No one is following us. No one knows where we went.” Her brow creased with worry as she looked Katia over. “And you need _real_ rest. In a bed, not in a car or on a—a cement floor.”   
  
Katia winced, her bones aching with the memory of the cold cement pressing against her back, her knees. Swallowing down her terror, she gave Leila a small nod and stepped out of the car.  
  
Leila wrapped a blanket around her as soon as she stepped out. “In case anyone is watching,” she explained clumsily. “For the—you know—”  
  
“The bloodstains.” Katia pulled the blanket tighter around herself, like it could protect her from everything that had happened. Her clothes were caked with dried blood, bruises still discoloring the skin on her face and body. She leaned heavily on Leila as they walked across the mostly-empty parking lot to their room. The sky overhead was streaked with gray clouds, and she could faintly see distant mountains over the horizon.  
  
The motel room was sparse but clean, with two small beds and outdated wallpaper. It felt utterly surreal. Her mind could barely wrap around her being in such a perfectly normal place, after everything that had happened.   
  
Leila walked across to the far bed and dropped her bag on it, immediately digging in and pulling out medical supplies. She glanced back over at Katia. “You, uh—you might want to get washed up, and then I can check on your—your injuries.”   
  
_My injuries._ Katia let the blanket fall and looked down at her bloodstained clothes, the evidence of everything she’d been through. She shook as she made her way to the cramped motel bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, she turned and faced herself in the mirror.  
  
She could barely recognize herself. Her face was battered and swollen, angry purple bruises standing out against her tan skin. Blood was streaked down her face and neck, smearing to mingle with the carvings Savio left around her collarbones. Her eyes stared out from under lank tendrils of hair, dull and exhausted and clouded with a distant, fuzzy pain.   
  
Forcing herself to look away, she stripped off her bloody clothes, gritting her teeth as the fabric pulled at half-healing skin. She turned the water on full blast and stepped in. Red rivulets streamed off of her and down the drain, and she watched with a sort of detached fascination.  
  
There was _so much blood._ It still didn’t feel real. She wondered if it ever would. She scrubbed herself with the cheap motel soap, harder and harder until a few of the cuts opened back up and began bleeding anew. It didn’t help her feel any cleaner.   
  
She washed her hair with a mechanical detachment, numb to the way her shoulders protested as she lifted her arms to rub the shampoo in. The soap suds were frothy pink. She wanted to stand under the scalding water and let it soak into her until there was nothing left.   
  
Instead, she turned the shower off and stepped out. The hotel towels were scratchy, but she wrapped one around her anyway and wound the other through her dripping hair. For one final second, she stood in the cramped bathroom, breathing in the steam from the shower. Then she walked back out into the bedroom.   
  
Leila glanced up as Katia entered, and immediately moved to gather her bandages and supplies. “I’ll clean your cuts for you,” she said quickly, but then she hesitated a bare second before continuing. “And there’s a...there’s some clothes for you over there.”   
  
Katia followed Leila’s gaze to the other bag, where a small suitcase lay open. Inside were some of her own clothes, shoved in haphazardly. A set of pajamas, some pants and a t-shirt. Socks and extra underwear. A pair of sneakers.  
  
Swallowing, she turned back to Leila. “Where did you find this?”   
  
“It...it was in the trunk of the car,” Leila said. _Nic’s car,_ she meant. Katia’s mind spiraled, picturing Nic, frantic, shoving some of her clothes into a bag before running off to save her. Or maybe he was calm and collected, gathering up the things she would need, refusing to give in to panic. Always thinking ahead, knowing she would want a shower and change of clothes as soon as she was safe. Always giving her everything she needed.  
  
And she had _killed_ him.   
  
She sunk to her knees, still wrapped in the towel, and buried her face in her hands. Leila crouched wordlessly by her side, not touching her, just waiting. For a moment, Katia struggled to breathe. She wanted to sob, to scream, but she couldn’t get anything out.   
  
Finally, she looked back at Leila. “He brought me _clothes_ ,” she whispered, desperate to explain how much that meant. “He brought me clothes, and I killed him, and—fuck, oh my god. He lied to me about _everything_. He was a _murderer_.”   
  
Leila was listening silently, patiently, but all at once Katia needed answers, validation, arguments, _something_. She took Leila’s hand in both her own. “I shouldn’t have done it,” she said, with no clue if she was trying to convince Leila, or herself, or neither. “I should’ve—I don’t know, I should’ve gone with him and then brought him to justice somehow, he could’ve gone to jail—”   
  
Leila’s mouth was a hard line. “I’m probably not the most impartial judge when it comes to the sort of justice I think Domenic Sterling should have received,” she said in an even tone. Then her expression softened. “You were...you were just exposed to an incredible amount of violence in a short time. More violence than anyone should ever face.” She turned her head slightly, and for a moment it was as if she wasn’t even seeing Katia at all, her mind somewhere else. Then she ran a nervous hand through her hair and continued. “You were just...reacting to the things you’d gone through, and the things you’d learned.”   
  
_The things I learned._ She’d learned that the past five years of her life had been built on a lie. That she’d shared her bed with a man who committed unspeakable acts of brutality and then had the audacity to say he loved her. “He was supposed to take me out for _dinner_ last night,” she burst out suddenly, inanely. “He said he made some huge business deal or whatever. What was he _doing?_ ” She felt a surge of frustration. “How could I have been so _stupid?_ ”   
  
She was crying, she realized. She scrubbed at the tears angrily, but she couldn’t stop. Something inside of her snapped, and everything she’d been carefully holding in place and refusing to think about flooded to the surface. If she had known, if she had picked up on it sooner somehow, realized just who her husband was, could she have made a difference? How many lives could she have saved if she hadn’t spent all that time in ignorant bliss?  
  
Hesitant, Leila reached a hand out and brushed away a stray tear from Katia’s face. “It’s not your fault, you know,” she murmured. Katia blinked and gave a small hiccup. Leila’s hand lingered near her face. “Domenic was—he was a criminal. A master manipulator. He wore a dozen different faces depending on who he was dealing with.” She gave a small, sad smile. “It’s not your fault he kept those things hidden from you. It’s not your fault he _lied_ to you.”  
  
Katia stared at her, letting the words sink in. _He lied to me. It’s not my fault._ She swallowed down her tears, and her voice was shaky when she spoke. “I just—I don’t know if I did the right thing.”   
  
“You might not know right away,” Leila said. “It might take you a long time to decide if you did or not.” It wasn’t an answer, not really, but something in Leila’s gentle tone and steady presence gave Kaita the smallest shred of hope.   
  
She stood suddenly on shaky legs, moving to sit on the bed. “Can you, um, bandage me up?” she asked, already taking some clothes from the bag and pulling on a pair of underwear. She felt completely wrung dry, empty. She wanted to sleep for a year.  
  
Leila looked the cuts over, applying some cream to some of the larger ones before bandaging them. She studied the gash on Katia’s stomach with a slight frown before bandaging it as well. “I don’t think you need stitches,” she said, giving Katia some painkillers and a cup of water. “But if that starts to look worse we might need to do something more with it.”   
  
Katia couldn’t bring herself to worry about it. She pulled on the pajama shirt—god, it smelled like _home_ —and crawled under the thin motel blankets, feeling clean and comfortable for what felt like the first time in forever. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.  
  
***  
  
Katia woke hours later, her eyes blinking open as she took in the fading wallpaper and old rug of the motel. The evening sunlight was slanting through the window, casting an orange glow over the room. _How long was I asleep?_  
  
As she sat up in the bed, she realized she was alone. Leila’s medical bag still sat on the other bed where she had left it, but the other woman was gone. Panic spiked through Katia as her mind raced— _someone found us, Leila had to run, oh god what if she’s dead_ —and then the motel door opened and Leila walked in.   
  
Katia climbed out of the bed in a hurry, faint with relief. Leila was carrying a box of pizza, and hunger hit Katia all at once as her stomach growled.  
  
“Do you think you can walk for a bit?” Leila asked as Katia made her way across the room. “There’s just—I saw a place where we could maybe sit and eat. It’s not far.”   
  
“Sure,” Katia replied, not fully following what Leila was saying. The smell of pizza was making her mouth water. She grabbed two water bottles from Leila’s bag before following her outside.  
  
The evening air was cool, with the last rays of the setting sun staving off a deeper chill. Leila led Katia down a thin dirt path branching off from the motel through a thicket of trees. Katia stumbled to keep up, the uneven ground tripping her up.   
  
Then the trees cleared and they emerged on a rocky overlook, and Katia’s breath caught in her chest. She could see the land spread out far below for miles around, rolling hills with farmland and thick patches of forest. The mountains in the distance were silhouetted against the setting sun, darkness framed with painterly strokes of orange and pink and red.   
  
Leila glanced at Katia, almost shyly. “I thought maybe we could sit and have our dinner with a bit of a view,” she said, setting the pizza box down and perching herself on a log.  
  
“It’s gorgeous,” Katia whispered. She tore her eyes away from the view to look back at Leila. She was almost glowing in the light of the setting sun, her hair a halo of curls around her soft face. Katia joined her on the log, their legs just barely touching as they sat side by side. Their eyes met, and Leila gave a small smile. Despite everything, Katia returned the smile.   
  
They ate the pizza together in companionable silence as the sun continued to set and the light breeze whispered through the trees. For that brief, gentle moment, Katia allowed her mind to rest. 


End file.
